“Is it morning already?” I asked, aloud to no one, when I opened my eyes to see sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. Waiting for that old, familiar ‘ugh’ feeling to settle in, it finally dawned on me — yes, dawned … that word usage finally made sense — that it wasn’t going to happen. I hadn’t awakened feeling the same-as-it-ever-was dread that I was so used to.
I giggled with anticipation. If this is what life was going to feel like now, I was all for it.
I hopped out of bed, my feet hitting the cold floor, yearning for a hot cup of tea. My metamorphosis into an official Brit was apparently complete. No longer content with a cup of morning Joe, I understood now the joys of a nice cuppa. I hoped Maddie had risen before me so the kettle would already be on the boil.
My luggage sat just over there, mostly packed, just a few last-minute things piled nearby. My clothes for the day were neatly folded, waiting for my decision: should I do a quick rinse this morning, or wait to take a before-bed shower in the hotel in London?
I didn’t want to wash off the Glastonbury buzz, so I got dressed and went to the kitchen, where I was delighted to find the water in the kettle already hot and ready for a brew. Maddie must have beat me to it.
As I waited for the teabag to steep, I dug out Chantelle’s card to text her my email address while I still had a British phone number. Before I could even do that, though, I saw a notification on my phone of a message from Chuck: Love you, miss you, can’t wait to see you.
There it was. That familiar dread I had not missed feeling when I first woke up. And it wasn’t about Chuck, per se, it was everyday life back home. I didn’t want to leave England.
I wasn’t unhappy back in Ohio, really. I mean, I had everything a person could want. A nice home, family, a job I loved … all the things. But that undercurrent I hadn’t even noticed until it was gone. It was back.
Was it Inntinn-lobhadh? I looked at my left wrist, where I now wore the quartz beaded bracelet, and nothing changed. Nope, not the mind rot.
Maybe it was about Chuck, after all. Before I left for England, I was doubting the quality of our marriage but, over the course of the past week, that doubt had faded a bit. Perhaps I just needed a little distance between us for a little while.
Was it just the typical travelers’ woe of leaving vacation behind? I couldn’t tell. I wished Maddie’s cards were there on the table, easy access.
As if on cue, Maddie came in, her hair up in a towel, fresh from the shower. “Oh good,” she said, feeling the kettle, “you’ve already turned it on.” She poured steaming water over a teabag in a cup, humming a tuneless melody.
“I didn’t turn the kettle on,” I said. “I thought you did.”
“No,” she said, “I hopped straight into the shower when I got up. I know we have to hit the road soon, but I wanted a fresh start before we head back to the big city. I won’t take long to get ready, I promise.”
“I’m just the opposite,” I said. “I didn’t want to wash the grass out of my hair, so to speak.”
“Gotcha,” she grinned. “I’ll be back in a sec. Just want to towel off my own hair.”
It was only after she left the room that it sank in that she had not turned the kettle on. It was already hot when I became the first person in the kitchen that morning.
“Huh,” I said, adding some milk and sugar to my cup. I sat at the table and texted Chantelle, and took my first life-affirming sip of the day. “My god, that’s good,” I said to no one.
I sat and gazed out the kitchen window, the view of the Tor a spectacular reminder of all that had occurred. I felt changed. Content. Blessed.
And I didn’t want to go home.
Maddie returned to get her tea, her damp hair now combed straight and pulled back behind her shoulders. “Here,” she said, “something told me you might need these.” She set the deck of oracle cards on the table.
“Will wonders never cease?” I said, laughing. “I was just wishing they were handy.”
“There are no coincidences, right?” she replied, sitting to join me at the kitchen table, also facing the Tor. She blew into her cup to cool her tea and said, “Isn’t that a gorgeous view?”
“It is,” I agreed. “I’ve been sitting here burning it into my memory.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” she said. She picked up her phone and took a picture of the view. “There. Now I don’t have to rely on my memory.”
“Good idea,” I said, and did the same. I made the photo my phone’s wallpaper, for good measure.
As I fiddled with my phone’s settings, Maddie’s voice broke through my concentration, her dismay apparent, “Oh no! Our flight’s been cancelled!”
“What? Cancelled?” I replied. “How are we going to get home?” I didn’t say it aloud, but part of me was relieved. I wouldn’t mind an extra day or two. Or twelve.
“Let me work on this,” she said. “There’s got to be another flight tomorrow and I’m sure the airline is already on it. They can’t leave international travelers stranded.”
All business now, Maddie concentrated on fixing the problem. Meanwhile, I picked up the deck of cards and gave them a shuffle, asking the question, ‘What is this dread about? Why do I feel so reluctant to go home?’
I only pulled one card this time. I didn’t need a whole reading, just an answer to that one question. The card said, ‘Habit: Release the past you keep rehearsing. The future does not require yesterday’s script.’
“Dude.”
Maddie wasn’t listening. She was tied up on the phone with the airline, so I sat there sipping my tea, gazing out the window at the Tor, pondering the accuracy and depth of the card’s response. I needed one of these oracle decks.
Once Maddie hung up, before she could even tell me her results, I asked, “How far out of the way would it be to drive through Avebury so I can get a deck of my own? If it’s too far, I can order one online when we get home, but …”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I can check. But first, you’re not going to believe this …”
She paused completely, building up the suspense. Waiting until I was clearly chomping at the bit, she finally said, “I just booked another flight, close to the same time, but get this …”
Again, she waited until I finally hollered, “Tell me!”
She grinned and beamed so broadly I thought she would burst. “They comped us first class seats.”
“Oh my god, you are KIDDING ME!” I shouted.
“NO!” she shouted back.
We both leapt from our seats and did our own versions of a happy dance, giggling like children, hooting and hollering. Once we finally collapsed from the exhaustion of celebration, we landed back in our chairs at the kitchen table and Maddie said, “You know what? I don’t care if it is out of our way to stop in Avebury. I saw a crystal at that shop that I didn’t buy, and you want those cards. Let’s do it.”
“Alrighty,” I replied, “but we better get moving. We have to check out soon. Are you done packing?”
“Just about,” she said, “but I still need to dry my hair and put on my face. How about you?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “I’ll do a last check around the place and turn on the dishwasher. You finished there?” I pointed at her teacup, which she lifted and drained before handing it to me.
“I’ll be quick,” she said, and darted back to her room.
It didn’t take long to get the cottage spic and span, so I grabbed my luggage from my room and stacked it by the front door, waiting for Maddie to join me. She was still humming away in her room, signifying that she was nowhere near ready, so I wandered outside for one last communion with that gorgeous hill out there.
I stood for a while in the grassy yard, gazing up at St. Michael’s Tower, recalling how the sight of one of these towers would send me spiraling with fear, just a few days ago. I glanced down at my left wrist, now adorned with crystals associated with the bright light of the Divine Feminine, and thought about what a new person I was. I called out to Twink, my voice dreamy with retrospect, “Hey, are you there?”
In a flash, she stood next to me, full sized, the top of her head just about at my shoulder. “Aye, I’m here.” She sounded as wistful as I did.
“We’ve come a long way, you and I,” I said.
“Aye, we have,” she sighed.
I finally noticed her tone. I asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Not ‘wrong,’” Twink replied. “Just … difficult.”
I waited.
“This is where we part ways,” she said. “My work is done.”
“What? Wait!” I cried. “No!”
She moved to stand in front of me, looking up at my face and said, “Aye, Auntie Jennett needs me elsewhere. I’ve taken yeh where yeh need to be, and now yeh’re off and running.”
“But …” I stammered, “… I may not need you, but I want you to stay.”
“Oh, I’ll still come around to check on yeh, from time to time,” she said, reaching her tiny hand out to touch my arm. “But not at yehr beck and call.”
“What about Precious Pea?” I asked. “Myx and Maj have kindled a friendship with Maddie. Will I be alone now?”
“Pea will come around, too,” Twink explained, “but I don’t know if yeh’re hearing me. Yeh don’t need any of us.”
This hurt. This really hurt. The pain in my heart threatened to overwhelm me, but I caught myself. I had just discovered ath-shapach, with Twink’s help. And Pea’s help. And Myx and Maj, and Seren and Celesta … and Gwyn ap Nudd. I wasn’t alone. They all lived in my heart.
I bit my lip to keep from crying, not just from longing for what I was leaving behind, but also from overflowing love for those who had stood by my side this past week. Maddie … and Padraic and Gillebrid … and, most of all, Granny Myrta.
“I’ll always be with yeh, lassie,” a familiar voice said. As Twink faded away in a sparkling mist, she was replaced by the form of my distant great-grandmother, whose eyes twinkled at me. “I live in yehr bones, in yehr blood. I’m only a heartbeat away.”
Behind me, I heard the door of the cottage opening and the scraping of luggage wheels on the cement walkway. Maddie said, “What a beautiful day! Let’s drive with the top down.”
With that, Granny Myrta vanished and I was alone.
Well, not really. I would never be alone again.
To follow along, you’ll want to first meet Lola and Twink in A Faery on My Shoulder and The Faery Falls. They’re only $4.44 each on Kindle (also available in paperback), or I’m happy to gift you an e-copy if money’s tight — just promise to pay it forward by being a supportive reader, sharing posts, or sprinkling encouragement.
Lisa Bonnice is the co-author of Fear of Our Father, now a Lifetime Original movie (Monster in the Family). Beyond true crime, her fiction explores the mysteries that shape us—from the humor-and-heart metaphysical comedies A Faery on My Shoulder and The Faery Falls to Castle Gate, a genealogy-based historical novel about ancestral healing and resilience, available in both print and audio.
Lisa hosts the podcast NOW with Lisa Bonnice and writes about the intersection of truth, transformation, and storytelling. Learn more at lisabonnice.com.